The Cold Smell Of Sacred Stone

son.'

'What difference does it make what my friends believe, Mongo? Actions are what are important, and all of us here work toward a common goal.'

Slowly, I swept my gaze around the office-meeting the gazes of Sister Kate, Harry August, Tommy Carling, Marl Braxton, and the silent guardians outside the doorway. 'I've got a flash for all of you,' I said tightly. 'Marked or not, I'm still Garth's brother; he's my flesh and blood.'

'He belongs to all of us now,' Tommy Carling said evenly. 'He belongs to the world.'

'Well, I want your Messiah all to myself for a few minutes. After I've talked to him alone, I don't give a damn what all of you do. But if everybody but Garth isn't out of this room in twenty seconds, and that door isn't closed behind you, I'll tell you what I'm going to do. The Messiah's earth brother is going to walk out of here and do something really crazy just so he can get some newspaper space and a few minutes on the evening news. I'll see if I can make a big enough fool out of myself, so that maybe people will begin to see what fools all of you are; I'm not sure Garth's People are ready for the kind of publicity I plan to get you. I'm not sure yet just what stunt I'll pull, but I'm already giving it some serious thought.'

Only Garth, who was smiling benignly, seemed unperturbed by my patently ridiculous threat to try to embarrass a group of volunteers whose only crime was trying to feed, clothe, and otherwise care for the countless numbers of the homeless, helpless, and hopeless who lived on New York City's streets. Harry August took a step backward, as if I had physically struck him; Marl Braxton's dark eyes clouded, and I could see the muscles in his neck and jaw begin to move: Sister Kate and Tommy Carling exchanged a quick glance.

'Garth?' Tommy Carling said. 'Is it all right with you? Do you mind talking to your brother alone?'

'Of course not,' Garth replied, and shrugged. 'Why should Garth mind?'

It seemed an eminently sane response. Now Sister Kate took charge, ushering August, Braxton, and Carling out the door before leaving herself and quietly shutting the door behind her. I was left alone with the strange stranger who was my brother, who simply stood in the center of the room, his heavily muscled arms crossed over his chest, smiling at me. His wheat-colored hair had grown very long, and almost reached his shoulders; his brown eyes seemed full of strange lights, and the expression on his face was inscrutable.

'I almost didn't recognize you without your earphones,' I said.

I'd hoped for at least a chuckle; instead, I got a serious reply.

'Garth doesn't listen to the music when he's on the streets. It isn't needed out there. Garth goes out to hear and be heard. The people living on the sidewalks are the music.'

'What does Garth hear, and what is it that he wants to be heard?'

'We talk of need, loneliness, and pain. Then Garth tries to bring them back here so that we can do something about those things.'

'You're doing good work, brother.'

'Yes; Garth knows that. As you see, Garth has a lot of help.'

'How did all those volunteers out there find out about you?'

'Garth doesn't know. They just come in off the street and ask if they can help.'

'How come I didn't hear about you?'

'Garth doesn't know.'

'Garth. .'I took a couple of steps forward, then stopped. I wanted to hug my brother, tell him that I loved him and was proud of him; and tell him just to stop being crazy. But my heart wasn't in it. There was a wall between us that I couldn't find a way to cross over. Besides, Garth no longer seemed all that crazy to me. Carling now sounded crazier than my brother. Everyone in the world, I thought, should be as crazy as this big, gentle man who, with no thought whatsoever of earthly or heavenly gain, simply walked the streets to gather in the mentally and physically crippled. Garth no longer seemed crazy, only. . different. Perhaps unalterably changed. He was now a stranger I would probably never get to know, because I would never be able to hear the music he heard, the way he heard it. Which was probably the reason neither the NYPD nor I had heard anything about him until he had turned up on the front page of The National Eye. 'Why didn't you call me?'

Garth frowned. 'Have you been ill?'

My brother now existed, almost literally, in another world. And there were more of 'them' than there were of 'us.' The Lessons of Siegmund Loge.

'No, I haven't been ill. Did it ever occur to you that I might have been worried about you?'

My brother thought about it, then slowly shook his head. 'No. That didn't occur to Garth.'

'At the very least, you should have called Mom and Dad. They've been worried sick about you. We thought you might be dead.'

'Garth has been all right.'

'You should have called and told them that.'

'Garth will call them if you think it's a good idea.'

'Garth, don't Mom and Dad even mean anything to you anymore?'

'Yes. Of course.'

'Then why didn't you think of them-or me-during the past four months? I'm trying to understand.'

'But Garth did think of you,' my brother replied evenly. He paused and studied my face, may have noticed the beginning of tears. 'Garth is sorry for the pain he has caused you,

Mongo. He just didn't. . you, Mom and Dad. . Garth knows who you all are, but you don't really have anything to do with him, the way he is now. It's as if Garth's parents and brother belonged to some other person's life.'

'But you do remember things from the other person's life?'

'Yes. But it's as if they happened to someone else.'

'Do you feel any different now-physically or mentally-from the way you did the last time I talked to you, at the clinic?'

'No.'

'Are you sure?'

'Garth is sure. Why do you ask?'

'The last time the doctors ran tests on you, you were still passing NPPD in your urine. The drug was still metabolizing in your system.'

'So what?'

'So, maybe the damn stuff is still in your system, and that's why you don't feel any different; so maybe when it all breaks down and is pissed away, you will feel different-like you. Will you let me take you to a medical lab for a urinalysis?'

'Garth thinks not.'

I sighed. 'Why does Garth think not?'

'Garth is the way he is. The idea that he will one day change back to the way he was before is a hope of yours-a false one. Garth does not want you to be hurt anymore.'

'You let me worry about that. How about it? One little pee in one little bottle is all I'm asking. How can that hurt?'

'Garth's time is better spent doing other things. He thinks not.'

'Do you believe you're some kind of messiah?'

Garth abruptly laughed. It was the first time I had heard him laugh in what seemed like years, but was only months; it was a rich sound, and it made me feel very good.

'You still think Garth is crazy, don't you, Mongo? There can't be any messiahs when there is no God. The reason Garth is doing what he's doing is because there is no one else to look to for help outside ourselves.'

Garth and I studied each other for a few moments, and then I pointed toward the door. 'Some of the people out there think you're the Messiah. Braxton and Carling do, and I'll bet there are a lot of others.'

'That's not Garth's problem, is it?'

'But do you ever tell them you're not the Messiah?'

'If the subject comes up, yes. Otherwise, it's not something Garth gives any thought to. Garth tries not to concern himself with silly things. What Garth thinks about is telling the truth, even if no one listens, and helping